


even at your worst, you're not so bad

by derogatory



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Breast Fucking, Come Eating, Double Anal Penetration, Face-Fucking, Gang Rape, Gangbang, M/M, Marathon Sex, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Violence, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Orgasm Denial, Prison Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Violence, Spanking, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-11-28 05:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derogatory/pseuds/derogatory
Summary: When this world ends, he'll leave Galo in it, let this idiot who refused to bow down burn to ash with the rest of the mindless rabble.But just because he can't take the boy with him, doesn't mean Kray can't have a little fun.





	1. Chapter 1

The door swings shut behind him, and the sound of the locks slipping back into place is cavernously loud. Galo barely raises his head at Kray's arrival. Instead the boy's head remains dropped between his shoulders, posture unusually slumped. Kray regards it with a low, pleasant interest. Usually the kid is so loud and obnoxious, desperate to be seen, to be acknowledged by everyone and everything. Now he's practically demure, beaten into submission through solitude.

"Almost a week now," Kray says, the drawl of his voice echoing off the bare walls of the cell. "Hopefully your time alone has improved your attitude." He lets the words hang in the air, eyes boring into the back of Galo's skull. Galo inhales with a slow, shallow breath.

"You're just gonna leave me here?" he asks, tone colorless. Kray's stomach flips at the unfamiliar downturn of the boy's mouth, his fitful misery. It's so rich he might skip dinner.

"That's the idea," he replies. "I can't have you revealing the truth to the masses. It would cause a panic. And you're not well known for your ability to keep your mouth shut."

Galo's eyes stay low and unfocused, staring at a distant point on the floor. It's almost sweet, this new soft-spoken, obedient prisoner. But Kray is a busy man, and he didn't come all the way here to be ignored.

He cups a hand under Galo's chin, lifting his gaze upwards. Galo focuses his stare on the man before him, and it takes Kray a moment to process what he sees. 

Throughout the many years he had the sincere displeasure of knowing Galo, the looks Galo sent his way were an irritating constant. Galo's voice had changed as he grew up, deeper and somehow even louder as he matured. He'd grown taller, leaner, and his shoulders had become broader. But those looks of simpering adoration, the kind of bated breath looks of attentiveness that Galo wore whenever Kray spoke, those never changed. Initially they were flattering in a small, unsatisfying way, like when an ant changes course to avoid being trampled, almost as if it notices your presence. Being seen by something utterly inconsequential. Kray hungered for so much more than that shallow, empty-headed attention. No matter what else had changed in his life, the more revered Kray Foresight became, the monolith of a man, a presence, a movement, that he had become for Promepolis. Even after all that time, Galo still wore the same dopey, childish smitten face he always had, looking upon his rescuer. He never changed, he was the epitome of repetition. The same stupid look day in and day out.

It had shifted just the once before now: in the moments after Kray first tossed Galo into this box, where Galo wore a look of confusion and fear. The plaintive way Galo had presented Kray with his objections to the Burnish's treatment. The wild optimism he must've had in learning the dark truth and going straight to Kray for confirmation. Like a child tattling to his parents. And then to be tossed into a prison, refused by his surrogate guardian. It was a role Kray never asked for, never wanted. He had chafed under those juvenile expectations. But it had been nice to see that image of himself — kind, serene, a loving guardian — crumble around Galo's well-defined shoulders.

But this look now was something even more different. Not one of simpering adoration or crushing sadness, but a look of disgust and hate. Galo practically shakes with it. Kray's heart thunders in the cavern of his chest, pounding out a low tempo against the heat that radiates through him. He could get used to that kind of expression. That's what Galo had been missing all those years: some depth in those blank, cow eyes of his. 

In a matter of days they'll take off into the sky and leave this place behind. Maybe if Galo keeps staring at him with that bitter look, Kray will pack him for the trip. Set Galo's empty husk of a body amongst his possessions and drink in that miserable expression forever.

Kray blinks that thought away, like wiping sweat from his brow. No, of course not. There's no place for someone like Galo in the new order. Bringing him along would be a weakness Kray can't afford. The supreme leader of a new world can't bother himself with some petty toy, even one locked away in a room somewhere for only Kray to gawk at. No, when this world ends he'll leave Galo in it, let this idiot who refused to bow down burn to ash with the rest of the mindless rabble.

Kray lifts his foot, planting his heel in the center of Galo's chest. Galo's eyes widen in alarm, a break from that razor-sharp expression as Kray slams his foot forward, knocking Galo onto his back. 

Just because he can't take the boy with him, doesn't mean Kray can't have a little fun.

Galo's chest rises and falls in a rushed, staccato rhythm. As he struggles for air, Kray thrills in the awful wheezing sound beneath him, like steam escaping a log. He steps closer, raises a leg again and watches Galo flinch instinctively. It would be easy to bring his foot down again, listen to ribs crumple and fold. Drag Galo to his feet only to knock him down again. How long had it been since Kray was able to drop the facade for a moment, to show his true self: base, repulsive, hungry for violence and brutality. Even that wasn't his true self, not really. Kray had buried that true part of him deep inside, farther than a simpleton like Galo could ever stir up.

Galo coughs weakly, lungs greedily sucking in air. His chest moves with a more calculated rhythm now, long heaving breaths. The longer Kray stands unmoving over him, the more Galo's earlier panic subsides. The more his frightened expression creases back into the one he wore before. In anger, his skin looks somehow less tight and drawn over his features, more lifelike. Blood courses through Galo, all the boy's synapses firing, strength surging through his muscles. 

Kray takes a moment to admire those too. Galo has nothing else to offer after all. The Burning Rescue squad has a high turnover rate, but most of its members have some specialized skills that grant them entry. Galo has nothing besides his brute strength, his willingness to rush headlong into danger. There's no reason someone with so little brains should've survived so long. Nothing but a dumb sack of muscle and bone. He'd burn up nicely, limbs simmering like the fuse of a bomb.

Suddenly, Kray's mouth seems overly full of saliva.

He drops to the floor without much thought behind why. He doesn't have to justify it; he had simply wanted to. It's been so long since Kray had been able to do something just because he wanted to. So long since he was able to cut loose and just take what he desired without worrying about the public perception, the fallout, the impact it could have on his overall plans. No, he doesn't think about any of that as he lowers himself to the floor, straddling Galo, eyeing those muscles. Perched over Galo — not on his knees, that's too base of a thing to do, too out of control, and Kray is always nothing but a paragon of control.

Except around Galo Thymos.

There's no thought behind the oil that he pulls out from somewhere, either. Maybe Kray brought it along for this explicit purpose. Maybe it clings to him the way fire does to Burnish, the way a match accompanies and aches for a flame. It doesn't matter because Kray Foresight doesn't have to explain himself to anyone. Not to anyone, not even to himself, or the quivering body under his hands, oil heating up between his palms and the expanse of Galo's chest.

"What the hell?" Galo mutters, struggling. He pays for it at once, his head snapping to the side with the force of Kray's fist. Kray flexes his fingers; there's something satisfying about laying his hands on someone truly deserving. Taking out his anger on something that had pestered him for so long. Like swatting a fly out of the air.

Galo's head stays turned to the side, doe eyes wide. As if that was the first time he had ever been punched. Surely not, although possibly it will be the last time. Kray will definitely be the last person to hit him, he muses, spreading glistening slickness over the boy's pecs. Every touch he generously bestows upon Galo could be his very last. These could be his last moments on this doomed earth, collapsed into a sad heap on the floor, hands bound and crushed beneath him as Kray straddles his waist. As his former mentor paws hungrily at the firm muscles there, squeezing them his grip. 

Kray had observed Galo's body as it grew over the years, shaping into this perfectly adequate set of features. He'd never allowed himself to touch it before now (as if Galo had ever deserved such an honor) but they were so close to the end, and Galo was locked away and forgotten. What good were these muscles for if Kray couldn't have a handful for himself as a treat?

He takes a nipple between his fingers, pinching them together until Galo cries out. He thrashes once again, violently, but Kray's strong enough to keep him pinned in place. Like a bug to a board. Galo grinds his teeth, frantic to keep quiet, not to rise to the way Kray's cruel attentions make his nipples pink and roused, flushed against the creamy skin of the rest of his chest.

Galo twists his face to the side, trying vainly to keep Kray from seeing his eyes watering. Even though Kray's seen him cry before, always big stupid tears. From the snot on his shirt when Galo wept as a kid to the open-mouthed animal sobs when Kray spoke at his graduation. Ridiculous. But all of that now seems like it had been an annoying means to an end, just to feel the hiccup in Galo's chest as he struggles not to sob, as his face scrunches in pain and dislike. 

Normally Galo is repulsive to look at, but surely fate must have saved him for something. For so long Kray was sure Galo was only still alive to be a thorn in his side, a blemish on his perfect record of an unhindered life. A stone in his shoe. But now, listening to these simpering whines beneath him, Kray's sure this is why Galo was spared all those years. Not to torment Kray but to finally please him in this base way, writhing on the floor, hot, sickly gasps slipping from his lips.

"C-Cut it out," Galo manages, voice raw at the edges. Kray feels himself leaning in.

"No," he says, a rush of endorphins at the concept of a refusal. With all the power in the word, the declaration that Kray Foresight won't help a man in need is almost blasphemy to this new part of humanity. He won't be kind and open and gracious. He'll be terrible and cruel, pointlessly twisting at Galo's chest until it's rubbed ragged. It's a good thing this idiot never wears a shirt; his chest will ache for days. Then again, Galo won't wear anything ever again. He'll die in these clothes. He'll burn up in a forgotten cell deep underground as the magma below overtakes the earth. His chest will still be worked red when it burns away, leaving scorched white bones, pristine and pure before they burn up as well.

Galo's chest shudders under Kray's palms, huffing air in and out in small, abortive noises. Kray lays his hands flat, feels the shallow, frightened breaths beneath them. 

"Feels good," Kray hears himself say. It tastes like garbage on his lips, this small admission of his weakness. Of how good it feels to imagine Galo burned to nothing. Of this inferior world wiped clean and left far, far in his rearview mirror. It's more than good, it's practically euphoric. How easy it would be to light his palms, to start the process of Galo's death by fire early. Galo's skin seems overly pink and, momentarily sure of another weakness, is Kray's thought that he's lost control again, he's started heating up the room with only his thoughts —

"Yeah," Galo mutters, head to the side, expression conflicted, blush spreading down his neck. "It feels… really good."

Kray remains very still. He has to make quick work of this situation. His brain is a series of gears and clocks, ticking towards the end date, the day all his plans will come to fruition. He hadn't envisioned something like this in those plans: Galo Thymos, a battered prisoner, huge chest heaving and begging for more.

Every second Kray continues not to move, Galo's body rises underneath him, arching for contact like the dumb animal he is. Even being manhandled like this would be appealing to something as stupid as Galo. Of course when Kray wants to taunt him, touch him against his will, Galo has to go and twist that into something for his own benefit. As always, Galo clings to him like a disease. A simple-minded symbiote. Not a single thought in his head. Just wide eyes, aching with the need to be accepted by Kray, even like this.

Kray licks his lips, suddenly chapped. "You told me to cut it out earlier," he says when he's sure his voice is measured and even. "Don't you want me to stop?"

Galo grimaces at the reminder. He must've lived with it for so many years, so long that Kray's words had become his own sort of doctrine. There was no point in him developing a brain when he'd swallow anything Kray told him._ Trust me, rely on me, do exactly what I say even if that means rushing into your own death._ And now, deliciously awful: _Feel good when I assault you._

"Why don't you tell me to leave you alone," Kray urges, kneading at the boy's chest with a vicious pace, "You'll never have to see me again." Galo's eyes sweep the room in a panic, breathing in big open gasps, like a fish out of water. Kray wants to gut him end to end. Pull out his spine and burn the fatty remains. He wants to live in the way the Galo's lower lip quakes.

Barely audible, Galo replies, "No."

Victory erupts through him like gasoline to a fire. Of course he doesn't. Galo has always thrived off Kray's attention, why would that have changed even now? The only difference is he sees Kray for what he is (well, mostly) and even then a simpleton like Galo can't bring himself to condemn him. That empty head, that stuttering breath from those heaving tits. All of those things can't be rallied together enough to pull himself free of his obsession with being needed, with being liked. It's a stupid, childish thing, something a mastermind like Kray trained out of himself decades ago.

"Of course not," Kray says smoothly, voice sinister and honeyed as he draws his hands up Galo's chest, closing around his throat. A breath catches under his thumbs, windpipe constricting with the slightest squeeze. Galo's eyes flicker with the remnants of a fight, the slightest edge of a plea as Kray generously loosens his hold. He strokes a gentle hand over Galo's bangs.

"Broken already?" he continues with a sigh. "I thought you might put up more of a fight." He shoves Galo forward and the concrete colliding into the back of Galo's skull is a wild crack. Galo's too stunned to cry out, too dizzy and hurt to struggle as Kray caresses his hands through his hair. The oil slicks through it, making that outrageous hairstyle slick up in odd parts. Copper drops fall between his fingers, viciously intertwined with Galo's hair as blood slips down the back of his neck.

Galo's mouth opens, lips wet and soft, "Gov-"

Kray's hand jerks forward instantly, grabbing Galo's tongue. He shouts, muffled by the fingers in his mouth. His tongue squirms in Kray's punishing grasp. It's a living thing in his hand, warm and slick like a little animal struggling for freedom. That's all Galo is anymore; an animal. A beast of burden to be broken and siphoned of its usefulness.

Kray knows he's teetering on a ledge. He's resting on unstable ground with his feet sinking into sand, or piles of sand. Throw one onto a fire and it will douse it. Another will make it burn hotter and wilder. His cock twitches in his pants. 

There doesn't have to be a reason for it. Everything has a method but just this once, maybe the method is the madness, is in the way Galo's face drains of color when he hears the click of Kray's undone belt.

"Wait," Galo says, voice loose and uneven now that his tongue is returned to him. "Stop-"

One of Kray's hands is on his cock, while the other fists itself into Galo's hair, shoving his face away. He doesn't need to look into that mewling expression right now, not when he's in the moment, admiring the way the oil on Galo's chest looks against the redness of his cock. He positions himself, sliding it along the sculpted ridges of the boy's abdomen. He's halfway desirable like this, when Kray doesn't look at his face. His muscles twitch with every unfamiliar touch. The head of Kray's cock rubs pleasingly against him there, smearing wetness and oil all over Galo's body. Kray lifts himself up on his knees to inch further up his chest, cock dragging against every sculpted ridge. He palms the firm mounds of Galo's tits, delighting in the way the heartbeat buried within them ticks frantically upward under his clutches. Kray arches his hips just so, guiding his dick between the firm pectorals, letting them grip and squeeze with every slow, simulated thrust.

Galo tries to pull away, earning himself another yank to his hair. It's weirdly soft between Kray's fingers. The back of his head is surely matting with blood. How long will Kray let the Galo's hair stay filthy like that before he has to hose Galo down or shear it off? How long can he feasibly keep Galo in a place like this, a toy he can fuck against when he needs to let off some steam. He's told himself Galo doesn't deserve it, that Kray can't risk such an indulgence, but it's hard to resist with such a sumptuous sight laid out before him.

"Ah," Galo pants, legs kicking out fitfully behind Kray. His hands are crushed somewhere behind himself, bound and useless. There's no way pry Kray off, Galo couldn't scramble away even if there was somewhere to escape to. He's pinned to the ground like a dog, whimpering and squirming as Kray fucks his cock against his muscles. Those limited achievements that were the only thing worth valuing, that brute strength that is now a prey animal trapped in his grasp. 

There's no reason this should feel as good as it does. Galo is a pointless thing, an amalgamation of humanity's worst traits in a moderately appealing package. There's no logic behind how good his worthless body feels as Kray fucks his chest, cock dripping, smoothly scraping along his muscles that seize and flex with the unfamiliar sensation. But just how unfamiliar, Kray has to wonder. Was Galo ever naive and trusting enough to let someone else use his body this way? Surely no one else ever will. Kray can be the first and the last to pry pleasure from the pathetic collection of fat and bones in his grip.

Galo's eyes squeeze shut. "Kray," he says, and it shouldn't sound so good, his name on Galo's tongue, that dumb thing that was twisting in his fist earlier. But the desperation in it, the weak, furtive moans between his own name are particularly delicious. Like Galo's enjoying it, like he's even worthy enough to get pleasure from Kray's use of him. "Mm… I-" 

Kray clenches a hand in his hair, pressing his fingers into a bloody spot along his scalp. Galo winces and goes silent. Adrenaline pumps through him. Galo is so easy to train, like a dog. Maybe it wouldn't be so unseemly to take Galo with him. Keep this body locked up somewhere forgotten, a place Kray could slip away to when he wanted some release. Train Galo to come to crave his attacks, the way he was too foolish to send his warden away earlier. Let the boy crawl through the dark cell to him, mouth open, hungry for his cock. Keep Galo's body slick and ready, there to be fucked or beaten. Kray could tear him into pieces and stitch them back together. It's a shame humans burn so easily; what fun it would be to torch Galo to ash and watch him weakly put himself back together.

Kray lets that thought carry him — Galo, burning and dying, reborn in the fire and destroyed anew — as he moves further up his captive body. He pins Galo's face in place, another hand clawing into his mouth, prying it open.

"Wh-" Galo is cut off with a slow thrust, Kray's cock slipping past his lips. His shout is lost in a choke as Kray rolls his hips fluidly, his cock tapping into the back of Galo's throat. Galo whimpers around him, powerless against the motion as Kray straddles his face. His unwilling mouth is warm and inviting, like the lick of the flames Kray's held at bay for so long. 

With every errant thrust, Galo's head is tossed back further against the floor, bloodstain smearing against the concrete. Galo gags and the sleeve of an inner muscle in his throat constricts around Kray, so blissfully tight. He has Galo's chin buried in his crotch, half of his face wonderfully obscured. His nostrils flare wildly — he can't breathe, he needs air, this weak, needy thing as Kray gleefully pummels his throat. Even the backswing is good, the slow friction of Galo clinging to him as Kray pulls out before pushing back inside. It's obviously less enjoyable for Galo, as tears brim at the corner of his eyes. How hard would Kray need to fuck this face before the tears burned away into steam? Before the heat endlessly cascading off of Kray would finally burn Galo all over, rupturing him from the inside out. 

Kray yanks his hair and pounds into that spot once, twice more before he's unraveling, spilling into the boy's gut. He pulls out after a moment of bliss, painting the rest of Galo's unhappy face white. Stripes of come streak against the muscles of his chest, wetness clinging to the still raw nipples. Kray can't remember the last time he let himself release like this. It feels like it goes on both infinitely and not long enough. 

Galo coughs and shudders so intensely Kray is sure this is when he'll break apart. Humans are so fragile, flammable and delicate. And he's already broken Galo so easily, who's to say he won't shake apart from getting his throat fucked, from having his tits manhandled? From the way Galo's own cock is straining furiously against the front of those ridiculous pants.

Kray straightens himself up on steady legs, standing victoriously straight, buttoning himself back into his pants. Galo's voice is a gurgle in his throat, barely-there words. His head lolls uselessly to one side, come oozing between his lips. His hips jerk on instinct, desperate for friction, yearning weakly towards any part of Kray he can reach.

Kray considers this unseemly sight. He'd already used the boy for his own needs. What harm would there be in letting Galo have some release as well? No one would have to see. And maybe that would be some closure to this annoying chapter of his life that included Galo Thymos: he could let the boy come and abandon him here.

Kray lifts his foot and places the heel of his boot against the firm outline of Galo's cock. Galo moans, damaged and abused, dripping in come and hunger. He's so close to danger and too stupid to care. How easily it would be to put his full weight down, to crush Galo's privates and then his throat. Or be gentle, even sweet, and let the boy rut into his foot like a horny dog. 

Unfortunately, Kray is a man of many plans and calculations, and despite the spontaneous nature of this little tryst, surely there would be a fallout from either of these actions. Resolute in this decision, Kray adjusts his collar and walks purposefully from the room. 

As the door locks behind him, Kray doesn't bother with a backward glance. He's had enough indulgences for one day. The world is doomed, of course, but there's still time for him to decide how his story with Galo will end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is dedicated to the dozens of ppl flooding my inbox with "WHEN WILL YOU WRITE PROBLEMATIC PROMARE FIC!!" i did it. it is done. i may rest now. 
> 
> jk i have a few more chapters of filth planned out
> 
> follow me on twitter @mobchuu!


	2. Chapter 2

Kray observes the new cell. He hadn't originally intended on finding a new place to stash Galo, but Heris has been sniffing around lately . Obviously it doesn't matter to Kray what that bookish little scientist thinks of this whole arrangement, but it's for the best Galo isn't someplace where someone with a good conscience could find him. Kray knows he'll sleep better knowing Galo is kept away from a woman's sympathy. Locked far away from even the smallest, most remote chance of an escape.

This room has dim lighting and thick padded walls. The padding had proven necessary when experimenting with the Burnish, muting any contact between the prisoners, preventing them from harming themselves and affecting the results of his experiments. This sort of arrangement would work well with Galo's current predicament. It's its own sort of experiment too: how long can Kray torture Galo in private before he breaks? How long can the boy scream until his throat goes hoarse? It's a basic type of experiment, more rooted in masochism than actual science. And of course, Kray had always told the staff he didn't relish in the pain of the Burnish, that their suffering was all a means to an end. The Burnish are criminals, and through their punishment, the human race will have a better future. It wasn't like Kray enjoyed their screams. 

Or at least, that was what he told those idiots. What could an academic know about suffering anyway? Suffering like the kind that accompanies the precarity of a public-facing position, the stress from presenting yourself as one thing while inwardly being something else. Kray didn't have to explain himself. Because he had always had to hide the fact that it was immensely satisfying to torment the prisoners. It was all for a noble goal, but their screams were enjoyable after all.

Because these Burnish, his fellow men, are too stupid or too stubborn to hold back the flames. Don't they deserve to suffer at the hands of someone as superior as Kray Foresight? And really, doesn't Galo deserve to suffer too? Isn't this whole Earth just made up of suffering masses, faceless nobodies who are able to live only by the grace of his genius?

Galo peers up at his arrival, expression warped behind a gag. As equally enjoyable as it would've been to hear Galo screaming for help as he was hauled through the corridors, some things still have to be done discreetly. The world is ending, sure, but how easy it would be for one of those scientists to let slip that Kray was keeping _personal_ prisoners? Enjoying the torment of his lessers would go against the persona Kray's spent so many years building. And sure, once they're miles into space with hardly another politician to rely upon, Kray can stop these publicity charades. But he's not sure he's ready to think about that kind of future yet, one where he can be more honest than he's been. One where he lays so many secrets bare only because there's no point in keeping them any longer. Let the people see what their ignorance bought. Let them cry out for his saving grace even knowing about the rotten secret at his core.

Galo twists uncomfortably in his restraints, and Kray's fingers curl into fists at his side. Until then Galo will remain unseen. There's something liberating about a secret.

Kray can tell even with the gag on, Galo's mouth is set in a thin, angry line. He must've hoped someone would've intercepted him when they moved Galo between cells. That someone might have pitied him, rescued him. Galo's whole life has been like that; he had only lived because Kray had momentarily paused with sentimentality. How easy it would've been to burn him down to his pint-sized sneakers. Galo's lived on Kray's handouts for so long, and even now, at Kray's total mercy, he must've hoped someone else would spare him. Disgusting. Even after rutting into Kray like a dog he still has the audacity to think there's anything out there for him. The world will burn and with it any hope of Galo's freedom. Kray can leave both behind: hope and a dying Earth a distant speck in the sky.

"I'll take this off," Krays says, his tongue twisting with the practiced edge to his voice, the rehearsed goodwill and generosity, "Since you made such cute sounds last time."

The gag slips to Galo's neck where the whiteness of the cloth stands out starkly against his tanned skin. How long would Galo have to stay in prison, away from sunlight, before his skin might fade to a pale, milky hue? Before Galo lost these treasured muscles and wasted away in obscurity. More experiments Kray could do. They'd use up the Burnish for fuel, but what next? He has a scientific mind after all, more sharply honed than anyone on his staff. Would he honestly be happy at the top without further research endeavors? And sure, he stole the research about the Burnish, but inevitably it was still his in the end; it didn't mean he was less capable of an academic just because the results were lifted from some dead man. But with his mind on the future of his research and methodologies… Then he doesn't necessarily have to leave Galo behind. Kray can take the boy with him and conduct his own private experiments.

Kray blinks away that thought. No, it's too risky. Not because he's worried about being thrown over by a less than grateful public. And not because Galo's not worth the possible fallout. Just that he can starve and beat Galo plenty in the remaining time they have on Earth. There's nothing satisfying about a death rattle; it's more fun to listen to a prisoner beg.

Galo shifts his jaw back and forth, testing the soreness of it, opening his mouth wordlessly. Kray can't help but stare, remembering those fat lips latched around his cock. Kray sets his shoulders back, conscious of his posture, and Galo eyes him suspiciously— no, not suspicious. Stupid. 'Suspicion' would imply Galo can see the minuscule shifts within Kray's expression. Nuance is lost on Galo; he's always been as subtle as a fire siren.

"Nothing to say?" Kray asks blithely. Galo spits; the glob of saliva lands just shy of Kray's right shoe.

And despite witnessing such a brazen display of disobedience, Kray's mouth creases into a smile. He clenches a hand in Galo's hair, holding him in place as his other fist comes down once, twice in a crack of submission across his jaw. Shoved back to the floor, Galo's bound arms thrust out to try and cushion his fall as he crumples helplessly onto his hands and knees. From above, Kray can count the individual vertebra of Galo's spine, curled forward like a coiled fuse. Kray could ignite one end and watch the fire dart through Galo, lighting him from each end. 

The thought warms the center of Kray's chest as he lifts his boot and brings it down hard into Galo's back. With each stomp, Galo's shouts turn to pained wheezes, air shuddering through his weak body. It would be so easy to shatter every bone like this. Pound him to a pulp, just a broken bag of flesh, something Kray could light up like a rattling box of matches. 

But killing is easy. Burning was always too easy— why else would Kray have avoided it all these years? So it doesn't matter if Galo wants to be disobedient. Kray has always liked doing things the hard way.

When the kicks stop, Galo stays down, aching moans half-muffled by the floor. Kray kneels beside him, letting his hand linger in the middle spot between Galo's shoulder blades. Under Kray's palm, air rushes into Galo's chest, rapid and uneven. Hopefully this brat hasn't forgotten the last time Kray paid him a visit, when he put hands everywhere on Galo except where the boy had wanted. So pathetic and needy; as if Kray has the time of day to waste on a prisoner's satisfaction. Galo should consider himself lucky Kray returned at all, that he deigns to put hands on him, his muscular back, pulsing with the slightest movement.

The firm lines of Galo's back muscles protrude just slightly along his shoulders, perfect lines of flesh and bone following a sculpted pattern. With each slight shift of his body, another tendon ripples, coils of strength sliding underneath Galo's skin. Working long hours with Burning Rescue had given Galo such vitality, but it's useless now that he's trapped in the hands of his former mentor. All that brute strength but he had never developed a brain, something that he could've used to try and escape. He's just muscles and nothing else. 

Still, each set is firm to the touch, a satisfying bulk Kray can trace from one shoulder to the next. 

Kray's hand moves lower, past the superficial muscles, fingers dancing over each rib. Galo flinches at that touch. Had Kray broken one of his ribs during his last visit? Or just now with all that kicking? He can't bother himself to think about Galo much anymore; he's a busy man after all. What kind of ruler of the new world would he be if he spent his off-hours daydreaming about some tied up bimbo in the basement? Kray's only here now because he was passing by, because he was briefly reminded of a body abandoned and a thirst not quenched.

Kray presses his fingers into that sore spot between Galo's ribs, that possible break or bruise, and each hiss of pain from Galo is a shot of adrenaline into Kray's bloodstream. It serves as an accelerant over the fires that have lain dormant within Kray for so long. He grinds his fingers down as hard as he can and Galo cries out, legs kicking out to try and weakly struggle away. And then Kray removes the pressure, offers Galo that attentive generosity he'd needed for all those years. He has a better idea of how to torment Galo, something beyond pain.

Kray easily takes advantage of Galo's stunned state, looping his fingers in the back belt loops of Galo's pants. He pulls and they go even easier (what on earth were Galo's pants hanging onto? He already wears them so low.) With his pants yanked to his knees, the rosy skin of Galo's ass is on display, hips delightfully lifted into the air. It's one of the few places where Galo isn't tan, white like that gag, a spot where Kray doesn't have to imagine how Galo will look without the heat of the sun. 

Galo gasps, less pained now, more embarrassed as Kray rests the flat of his palm against the boy's bare ass. Galo's so warm Kray feels it through his gloves, the thrum of life and heat from muscles clenching and unclenching. On Galo's lower back is a set of dimples, just above the crest of his ass. They're deep enough for Kray to fit his thumbs comfortably, to hold onto as he admires the taut, twitching tendons of Galo's ass so lovingly presented. He could bite into it like a peach. He could rend flesh from bone like an animal.

He could also let Galo go. Unlikely. More likely, Kray could simply get up and leave him here, alone and abandoned. Kray could do so many things lately, so many messy desires that divide Kray's internal self from the man he presents. One of poise and control, above such Earthly wanting.

He could, he could…

But they haven't left Earth quite yet, and Galo's display, however obscene, demands to be acknowledged. It wouldn't be so terrible if Kray could respond with at least a little desire of his own.

Kray pulls back, then swings, palm landing violently against the plushness of Galo's ass with a satisfying slap. Galo shouts momentarily before biting back the rest of the sound, as if his own cry had frightened him as much as the strike. Kray brings his hand down two more times, earning a couple more yelps in pain. How much abuse would he need to lay onto this meaty behind before Galo can't hold back his cries, before he has to wear the gag again? It's not like anyone could hear them, but it would make for such a pretty visual. 

Kray keeps his hand suspended after another spank, watching Galo's pert ass jiggle from the force. Each slap pushes his body forward, and somehow in all the reposition and struggling, Galo is laid out flat over Kray's lap. Galo's knees scrape against the floor, legs forced open by the pants pooled around his ankles. Everything about this makes Galo seem like a naughty child. Of course, Kray was never so brutish to have disciplined Galo like this as an actual kid. But that's what makes this all the more humiliating; Galo the adult, with his shaking hips half lifted into the air, his cock dangling close to the starched fabric of Kray's slacks.

"I have an idea," Kray muses, the words slipping from his mouth like smoke. Dangerous signs of a distant fire, creeping closer. "Why don't you count the slaps? It will help me decide how much punishment you deserve."

"Punishm- aah!" Galo's words crumple uselessly as Kray slaps him again. A red welt has started to form over his ass. Heat vibrates off of it, and Kray pauses, kneads his gloved fingers into that warmth. Galo's asshole clenches salaciously with the sensation; Kray's eyes are very wide. He busies himself with a few more slaps, each making that clenched ring quake harder and harder with their force until Galo's cries slip through his clenched jaw. "Fuck — Stop-"

"Count," Kray repeats. Or rather, he orders. No more coy suggestions with Galo. No more thinly veiled commands under the guise of a mentor's kind suggestions. No, from now on, Galo exists only to be ordered around, to be forced into a variety of humiliating positions by Kray until he finally, generously allows the boy to die.

Kray braces Galo in place with a thumb buried into one of those adorable back dimples of his. The divot feels overly raw and new, like the soft spot on a baby's head. Like pressing into another bruise, only this one was built into Galo's body from the very beginning. As if Galo was born with these convenient handles for Kray to hold onto while Galo's perky ass bounces from every awful slap.

Finally, "Ah…. Five."

"No," Kray replies, "That's one."

Quickly, Galo looks back over his shoulder. His cheeks are pink, expression furious. "But — That's five!" These sweet betrayed looks are one of the few good things about him. "You hit me five times-" Technically it was seven times, but who's counting? Not Galo, unfortunately.

"No, it's one," Kray corrects benignly, "And I'll start over if you don't count properly. Understand?" His hand comes down again with a light, punctuation mark slap over his right cheek. It's a painful red, darker than the blush over his ears. "So," Kray toys with the word with his tongue as if he can taste the unfairness of the situation he's put Galo in. "If you want this to be over with, you'll have to count." Another slap, this one to his left cheek. When Galo wriggles uncomfortably, his balls swing loosely between his legs.

"One," Galo says miserably, words dipped in mutiny. "Ah — Two."

"Louder," Kray says cheerfully. He pulls back his hand and Galo's whole body jolts in anticipation, flinching without even being touched yet. His hips, positioned lewdly in the air, vibrate with anxiety. Kray strokes the raw skin there. It's hard to look away, hard to give Galo even a second to breathe before laying into him again in earnest.

"Mm… Three. Four. F-Five! Shit…" 

Kray hums disinterestedly as Galo struggles to count along with the next few slaps. He purposefully overestimates a couple of swings, laying their abuse along Galo's thighs. The taut muscles of his legs throb with each slap as the Galo grinds out the numbers in turn, voice shaking almost as badly as his thighs. With each unrelenting slap, Galo's hips lurch against Kray's thigh. All that rocking back and forth must be doing something for him from the way the boy's cock, hidden beneath his hips, drips precome unseen onto the cold floor.

"Well," Kray murmurs, gleefully sliding a hand around Galo's thighs to touch that wet spot between his legs. Galo hisses and tries to squirm away, or as far as he can with a vice grip around his already swollen balls. "You're already hard."

"That's not," the words stumble out of Galo's mouth. Those cocksucking lips of his seem overly puffy and red; he's had a bad habit of biting them when he was struggling since he was a kid. Very little about Galo has changed since he'd leapt into Kray's arms all those years ago. Now he's bigger and dumber, but just as hungry for Kray's approval, so much so that he'd get off to spanking. "It's just the — I'm not-"

"Getting turned on from a simple punishment." Kray clicks his tongue disapprovingly, squeezes until Galo screams. The sounds of pain and struggle are so routine to Kray at this point. Worthless lower life forms struggling not to be chewed up and spit out by their superiors. Galo's uninteresting when he's being spanked, less interesting when he's leaking precome all over his gloves. Maybe Kray ought to wrap his fingers around Galo's neck and be done with it.

"Stop," Galo groans, head dropped between his shoulders, back heaving with sobs. "You said — If I counted-"

"I lied," Kray says instantly, and the words are like a detonation through him. How freeing to admit it after all this time, and how visceral the reaction to it is as it lances through Galo. "I lied. This will never be over."

"What," Galo gasps, eyes watering at the edges, "Gov — Please."

Stupid nicknames and begging. Nothing new there either. And Kray's sure after a dozen or so slaps Galo's ass is probably numb to all the spanking. Human bodies can't rebuild themselves after being burned to ash, but they seem able to adapt to just about anything else. His ass as scarlet red but Galo begs like he's still suffering, as if Kray would even listen. Boring.

Galo shivers, hands splayed out helplessly over the cold ground. After such a humiliating and hopeless display, Galo would probably like nothing more than to fall through the floor, to slip through the many rooms below until finally dropping into a hot pit of magma. To evaporate into the bubbling heat of the center of the Earth.

A blinding thought, a realization like a fire flickering in the dark. Galo certainly doesn't deserve a death so extravagant. He doesn't deserve to die at all. Maybe Kray has just been wasting his time imagining these scenarios where Galo is killed. That would be too easy for a lifetime of annoyances. It would be easy to burn Galo, to kill him. Wouldn't it be much better to keep Galo indefinitely, tormented in new, sick ways Galo never could've imagined in that big dumb head of his?

Kray's hand lifts from the small of Galo's back, dipping into his jacket pocket. He rolls a sleek silver bullet vibrator between his fingers. It's no one's business why he brought this sort of thing to these cells. Yes, he'd said he was just passing by, but if that was true, why would Kray have been carrying a sex toy? But that's not a question anyone has the luxury of asking when Kray is alone with the prisoner. It's no one's concern what purpose this toy could serve, why Kray lets the vibrator warm in his hand before sliding it between Galo's still quivering cheeks.

"Oh-" Galo gasps wet into the floor. Must not have been warmed up enough, Kray thinks as he watches the puckered ring of Galo's ass slowly, luxuriously swallow the bullet. "What…"

'What,' Galo asks. Kray's face splits with an irritated sneer. As if Galo could even begin to comprehend what was in store for him. Like he'd even have a clue why after so much abuse Kray would push a toy built for pleasure into his ass. Kray doesn't have to share his reasoning for why he'd fuck into Galo shallowly with the bead, letting its smooth surfaces prod against Galo's plush insides, acclimating themselves, until Kray turned up the dial.

"Ah!" Galo immediately shoots upright on his knees and elbows, wobbling with the force of the vibrations. Maybe Kray didn't have to start on such a high setting, but he's never been the type of man to be satisfied with half measures.

Kray spreads Galo's cheeks with one massive hand, watching the muscles of his hole twitch and contract wildly with every pulse from the toy. Galo had denied being turned on earlier, but there's no denying it now. At the other end of him, Galo's mouth hangs open, drool spilling down his chin as his cock bobs between his legs with every frantic thrust. 

"You won't come just from this," Kray says pointedly because Galo's pathetic enough he just might. He could maybe find the right angle to grind his crotch against Kray and force out some release. So Kray repositions Galo again, propping him higher on his knees like an animal, panting like a dog in heat. That's all Galo is: a dumb animal. Crawling through life, surviving only with Kray allows it, only coming when Kray commands it. "You won't," Kray assures him as Galo whines, whines, high and desperate. As if he has any idea what's in store for him.

"But maybe you'll come with a little more encouragement." Kray reaches another hand in his pocket and produces another bullet vibrator to press into Galo's entrance. It doesn't go in as easily; there's little to no lubrication and Galo is so incredibly tight. Galo's body quakes in response, the meat of his ass seizing in protest with every coaxing push.

It's sweet, knowing Galo is a virgin back here. Maybe Galo had always hoped Kray would be his first. That instead of today's brutal treatment, Kray could have sweetly stolen his purity some eventful evening. The benevolent Kray of Galo's dreams might have taken him out to a nice dinner, swept the boy off his feet and kindly, gently captured his flower with the caresses of a lover. Instead, Galo is chained up and forgotten, doubled over in a basement cell with two vibrators forced into his ass and shaking out of rhythm. And now Kray's insistent fingers forced in further alongside the vibrators as Galo cries in anguish.

That fantasy versus reality image is so delicious it almost takes Kray's breath away. It's hideous and alluring all at once, like so many aspects of the simpering heap splayed over Kray's lap. 

The vibrators clatter against one another, and Galo sobs, thrashing as they pulse and thrum against his guts. Kray's fingers can barely move, squeezed between those constricting muscles, the awful tightness of Galo. It's tight… How sickeningly good this tight virgin ass would feel as it sucks on his cock instead of a couple bullets and fingers. These rippling innards throbbing against Kray, pulling him in, begging Kray to fuck into him until it tore Galo apart. The body under him is so warm with that wanting, the heat of his insides are like sticking his fingers under scalding water. Although it's been ages since anything was too hot for Kray. 

Nothing burns him anymore: not water, fire, steam. Not even the mind-numbing inferno that is Galo's body, heaving against him. Galo's barely saying words now, voice stumbling over his pleas to stop, keep going, no, Gov help, please. 

Kray has no intention to keep Galo around for his begging or as a body to punish, to set aflame for his amusement. No, instead maybe he ought to simply keep Galo around to warm his hands. To seek out that heat by sinking toys, his fingers, his fists — all manner of things into Galo's ass, plunging every last drop of heat from him. Galo can shrivel up like a tree after a fiery blaze, all empty limbs, crumbling to ash.

"All right," Kray murmurs, dropping his face low enough he's practically speaking into the skin between Galo's shoulder blades. There's a thin layer of sweat that catches its sheen from the dim light of the cell. Kray's tongue is loose in his mouth, hungry for what Galo would taste like there. "You can come now." Maneuvering two controllers in his hands requires some finesse, but Kray doesn't fumble. He operates the controls like a professional as he turns both dials as far up as they'll go —

Galo's cock releases with a stream so sudden and violent it must be painful, but Galo clamps his mouth shut, scream muffled in the back of his throat. Annoying. Hadn't he said he wanted to hear Galo scream? Or maybe he'd said he didn't care about screams. It doesn't matter, Galo has deprived him of something and Kray will have to punish him all over again.

Kray hauls Galo off him, plucking his fingers free from his ass with a throaty 'pop.' It might've been more comfortable for Galo if Kray had used lube, but it isn't as if any of this had been done for Galo's benefit. On the floor, Galo turns onto his side, heaving with the force of his aftershocks. His taut stomach is a horrible mess of come that oozes past his belly button, over his thighs. Thick white globs of it sit unattended against the floor. One is even close to the spit Galo had earlier launched at Kray's feet. The tiny puddles are a sinful pair alongside one another; spit and come, both expelled from Galo's out of control body. Both spent for Kray with different intentions. Narratively, it's very good. Visually, it's disgusting. Someone will have to clean all that up.

Another flash of genius through Kray's brilliant mind: Galo can lick it up. But not now, later, when the mess has dried. When it will take multiple disgusted swipes of Galo's tongue to scrape the spit and come off the ground. 

Kray dusts himself off as he stands (as if he would allow Galo to get any of that filth on his suit.) He adjusts his collar, watching Galo writhing on the floor, trying desperately to move the vibrators inside him. With each twist, Galo tries to get the two toys left behind to have mercy on him. It can't be comfortable to have them still raring after he's already come — virgins are always so sensitive. Still, eventually Galo's libido will kick in again and he'll want them to fuck him to satisfaction, but. Kray didn't leave the vibrators in deep enough for something like that. And that's fine. Galo hasn't done anything to deserve that kind of reward. Let the idiot suffer for a few hours. Days even.

Days. That's right. Earth will be gone by then, and if Kray is content to end his games with Galo before then… No, there's still more he wants to do. There's a heat buried within Galo Kray still wants to claw out, hold for himself in the center of his hands. Galo doesn't deserve to die with the rest of the masses; he's earned a few more weeks of misery with all the unique ways Kray can torture him.

Anyway, it's cold in these cells too, so the come will take some time to dry. Especially with the ungodly heat radiating off of Galo's still convulsing body.

Yes, soon they'll take off. And Galo will come into space with him, where Kray will have an eternity to spend riling him up. Maybe he'll even let Galo come again, if he's very very good. Or maybe not. Kray will certainly have plenty of time to decide later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you think things in kraygalo fandom couldnt get any worse, look to the sky, its me floating in on a stupid blimp to ruin everything and cause many problems
> 
> follow me on twitter @mobchuu


	3. Chapter 3

This entire evening has gone to shit. Originally Kray had made dinner plans with a bankroller for the Freeze Force. Of course he'd be dining at a fine establishment while Galo was wasting away in a prison cell, choking on his own spit. The boy is probably still writhing and whining from the last time Kray stopped by, still so desperate to come. Not that Kray had thought about that sort of thing. He's much too busy to spend any amount of time fantasizing about Galo's miserable state deep below ground. Although in the spirit of honesty, Kray had, once or twice, toyed with the idea of visiting Galo again. But for the moment Kray's schedule was full with wining and dining the future inhabitants of the new world, securing their future. Then Lio Fotia escaped from the volcano and threatened to burn the city to ash, completely disrupting his professional evening. So that had to be dealt with. And, obviously, it was nothing Kray couldn't handle, but that minor annoyance would throw his whole week off. He'd need to reschedule this dinner — although Kray could leave the investor behind when the planet turned to ash, but that would be too _easy_. 

So fine. He'd upended his entire evening to deal with this terrorist, this weak-willed Burnish thing that submitted to the selfish desires of the Promare. For the moment, high impact investors could wait. Galo could wait too, of course, although once this idea came to Kray, this new plan for the evening, it'd seemed wasteful to dismiss it. Because sure, Kray was too busy to spend time with Galo, but that didn't mean Galo was exempt from punishment. 

So Kray put out an order — not an order, a suggestion, really. A recommendation. Because gracious world leaders don't give orders, that sounds too fascist. Which was of course actually true in this case, but, you know. Dress it up a little. Whatever it was, Kray had put the word out: the guards were free to use this prisoner however they like. After all, Kray Foresight is far too busy to preoccupy his time with pointless things like disciplining Galo. He has better things to do: stop terrorists, revel in a grateful city's applause, pinpoint the moment on the timeline that he can warp away and leave all this behind. But that doesn't mean Galo should be forgotten.

Letting the guards take advantage of the prisoner has other benefits as well. After all, security contracts are expensive, and there's a limit on who can join Kray and the elites on their quest into places unknown. It's better to let the crueler, more disturbed elements of his guards self-select themselves in the removal process. Anyone who takes Kray up on his offer to use and abuse this secret prisoner… well, that's no one he can trust in the future. They'll be left to rot planetside when the world ends, or else dropped off the side of the ship. 

Kray slides into his office chair, looking out of the massive windows over the still-smoldering fires throughout the city. The rescue teams will have them in control soon enough. Kray spends enough of his spare time tending to the fires burning within himself; he can't possibly be expected to expend any additional effort in cleaning up the Burnish's mess. Those rescue teams are nothing but glorified custodians, sweeping up the fires with his tech, his masterpieces of intellect. Sure, some of them were first devised by Deus, but aren't they all Kray's legacy now? Deus would never have had the drive, the public relations wherewithal to market his discoveries. He would've let that tech rot in a basement somewhere rather than use them to better humanity. And once that humanity could no longer be improved upon, could no longer be saved, then Kray would simply leave them behind too. Lock them up on a dying planet and fly away.

So the fires will be dealt with. Lio Fotia has already been dispatched into the engine's core, surrounded by the screams of his pathetic comrades. All in all a successful evening, albeit with a few unintended interruptions.

Kray pauses, eyes lingering on the keys that would activate a video feed to one of the cells. He has video surveillance in all the cells, it isn't like Galo is special. The boy is always a click away, but Kray is normally too busy, uninterested in what the kid gets up to in his miserable imprisonment. Kray hasn't once thought of Galo, cold and alone, shivering and sobbing with that vibrator still shoved up his ass. Not once.

But… Kray has had a long day. His dinner plans were ruined with this final gasp from the leader of Mad Burnish. It's been a difficult few hours, and harder times are sure to come. Surely no one would blame Kray if he took a moment to load the feed and enjoy a small glance of Galo's latest torment. After all, what's the point of generosity if you don't get to bask in what that does for you personally?

Kray's hand ghosts over the keyboard disinterestedly and the large screen on the wall comes to life. Instead of salacious moans the room fills with the sounds of violence. The television screen displays one of the guards as he brings his fist down hard on Galo's jaw. Galo reels backward against the floor, blood at his lips.

Kray sighs. Of course they'd simply resort to beating him up. Simpletons. As he said, some of his security detail won't make it onto the coveted list of Prosperis's top 10,000. 

Kray's disappointment ebbs as another guard kneels beside Galo, fingers prying his bloodied mouth open. Kray forces himself to ignore the uptick in his heartbeat as the guard's hand goes to his own waistband. _Good_ Kray thinks. That's what Galo's there for, after all. That empty violence means nothing to an idiot like Galo, but you can teach lessons to his body in other ways.

"What's the matter?" the guard asks, voice distorted through the static on the feed. It must have been damaged in the fires, in Lio Fotia's latest attack on the city. Irritated, Kray taps at a few other buttons, trying to draw the audio into a clearer quality, catching only bits of Galo's furious shouts. "You're so — for it — et somebody else h— a turn." The image jumps with static, missing a few frames before snapping back into view. A swollen meaty cock pressed against Galo's protesting lips.

"Stop," Galo grits out before the organ is shoved past his lips.

Kray's fingers hover momentarily over the keyboard. He doesn't need a perfect copy on the audio to recognize the wet gagging sound that comes with fucking into Galo's throat. The guard moves forward, pressing into his unwilling mouth, one hand braced in Galo's hair to keep his head angled back. The other guard kneels between Galo's legs, spread wide against the floor. A small wire and control dangle from his ass. The vibrator from Kray's earlier visit. What's the battery life on that thing? He wonders if there's a remote that goes with it.

Even with his throat battered, Galo's cock bobs insistently between his legs, leaking in long, white rivulets. Kray allows himself a knowing smile at the familiar sight. Yes, he knows all about Galo's cute little dick, hard even when he's struggling. Hungry for it even when his stupid mouth keeps begging you to stop. It's good the guards knew to shut him up early; Kray doesn't have any interest in Galo's words. No interest in anything about him. He has better ways to wrap up an eventful evening than watching someone shove their cock down Galo's throat. He's seen it first hand. 

But he'll just watch the footage for another few minutes, see if the audio improves. It's a security concern.

"Fuck yeah," the guard groans, audio fry lancing through the feed. "You're so — ucking wet."

"— et down here too," the other guard says, fingers prodding at the spot where the vibrator wire disappears into Galo's hole. Galo jerks away from the touch and is rewarded with another punch to the head. Again with the mindless violence. Still, Kray can't complain too much, as with the same violence, the guard yanks on the toy's cord. It roughly pops free from Galo's ass, still buzzing into the palm of his hand.

"- et you want — omething bigger -" the guard continues, vibrator dropped and his own reddened cock resting in his hand. Galo's cries are muffled by the dick in his mouth and the inadequate audio as the man lines himself up with Galo's puffy entrance.

It takes Kray a moment to realize he's holding his breath. Inexplicably, his hands have formed tight fists on the desktop. 

Galo's definitely a virgin down there, he all but admitted to it when Kray played with him last time. And Kray is, as has been made clear multiple times here, much too busy and important to bother with those things. Galo was always so infatuated with Kray; as if Kray would ever deign himself to take something worth anything from a person like Galo. But that doesn't mean it wouldn't be somewhat pleasurable to watch it happen to Galo from someone else. The boy dedicated his life to doing good in Kray's name, to live up to Kray's mammoth image and reputation. All to be abandoned and cast aside, taunted and tormented by his former mentor. And now, at the true crux of this torment, to have his precious virginity stolen away by some nobody guard. Some nameless accessory to his capture. It wouldn't be narratively satisfying, it would be too cruel. 

It would be very fun to watch.

Kray leans forward in his seat almost in time as the man leans into Galo, cock piercing those swollen muscles and disappearing inside his ass. Galo's mouth, forced wide by the blowjob, gapes helplessly, drool coating his chin as he manages weak, pained cries. Kray fusses impatiently with the audio as it crackles in and out. 

It's fine, he doesn't need to hear it to understand what's happening. To read the agony over Galo's face as his ass greedily sucks a stranger's cock inside. Galo was hard for so long, teased to a pathetic conclusion by Kray and then left to writhe unsatisfied for days. And now finally he has something tapping inside him at both ends, filling up those useless holes and using him. And neither of those things belong to Kray.

Galo sobs soundlessly as the guards pound into him in a brutal unison. The man fucking into his ass fetches the discarded vibrator, rolling it along the length of Galo's trembling dick. The guard balls-deep into Galo's throat laughs and the accompanying static cuts off the audio completely — Kray resists the urge to bang his fist against the control pad. It won't make a difference and really, it's not as if he _wants_ to hear the rattle of the vibrator as it's pressed mercilessly to the head of Galo's cock. Galo thrashes wildly as he empties in forceful spurts and howling laughter crackles discordantly over the feed.

Kray calls the video off, relishing in the echoing silence of his office. He takes one steadying breath, then another. 

He stands, adjusting himself discreetly. That's enough indulgence for one evening. After all, he has a dinner to reschedule.

  


  


* * *

  


  


It takes a couple of days to fix the audio issues. Obviously there's no rush; the IT department takes their time repairing the feeds. So when it's finally completed and Kray has an afternoon to himself, there's nearly a week of footage logged from Galo's time with the guards. Kray tries not to focus on the process of reviewing the footage as a treat. It's dangerous to reward that type of self-satisfied behavior in himself. It's simply part of an experiment to see how much pain and suffering he can impart on Galo. 

Kray makes sure the rest of his schedule is clear before loading up the backlog to review.

Unfortunately, the first swath of footage is somewhat disappointing. A new guard, small and wiry, hauling Galo's ass back and eating him out with abandon. Honestly, it's so gratuitously self-gratifying it almost alarms Kray. He's not a judgemental person, but that sort of act on Galo… it almost seems too lewd. That you'd have him as your prisoner and you'd use him for something that would bring _Galo_ pleasure? Obscene.

Galo's fists open and close weakly against the floor, mouth hanging slack, overwhelmed at how good a tongue in the ass feels. Kray wouldn't know anything about that — again. Not judgemental, but it just seems like something a weak-willed person would enjoy. And true to form, a pathetic maggot like Galo clearly enjoys it. He lets the guard pleasuring him move his body along the floor while Galo's face scapes against it, the ground of his cell slick with sweat and come. Galo's thighs tremble as the man's tongue wipes wet hot stripes over his asshole until the muscle there is puckered and wet like a pussy. It must feel good to have a warm tongue lapping at his injury. Kray can only imagine the ache from being punctured so roughly the other night, his maidenhood stolen so thoughtlessly. So it must be a thin comfort to have an attentive guard to lick his wounds (literally.)

Galo gasps in wet, throaty moans that come through with clear audio. Good technical assistance on an operation as extensive as Kray's is really an unsung talent of the modern age. He closes his eyes momentarily to relish in the sound of it, before Kray presses down on the fast forward button, jumping through the images of Galo's cock convulsing from a tongue in his ass.

How infinitely boring. 

Another few hours, another guard. Kray wonders if there's some sort of unspoken rule in place that only one guard can enjoy Galo at a time. This guard wastes little time before mounting Galo like an animal, forcing him still with his own body weight. Galo is large but days in captivity have stunted his strength somewhat. Broken his spirit for resistance. He barely struggles as the guard undoes the front of his pants, links himself up with the cleft of Galo's ass.

Which is a shame, Kray would prefer to see a prisoner with more fight in him. Then again, his last visitor did eat Galo out, so who could blame the boy for being trusting? Sweet that Galo would assume that kind of gentle treatment would last. But Galo's simply too dumb to realize a trap until he's in it, only knows to struggle when the guard wraps an arm around his neck. Galo thrushes in a panic as he's choked from behind, fingers grappling with the forearm that presses into his throat. Kray lets out a slow breath and leans back in his seat as Galo's struggling slows, his body going ragdoll limb. 

As the guard yanks Galo's ass tight against his crotch, humping with a wild abandon into the unconscious body, Kray considers the next course of events. Because there's self-selection, but then there's something so disrespectful in what this guard does, this kind of taking advantage. Not taking advantage of Galo, but of Kray's own benevolence. Because Kray is a generous person but to a point. 

The wet slap of bodies, the irritable grunting of the attacker. Nothing interesting.

Footage muted, he calls Biar into a brief meeting to discuss what options they have for terminating a troubled employee. Observing Galo's body heaved at all angles, the guard's body draped over his like a blanket as they weigh various options before agreeing the guard will drunkenly fall into a river later that week. It's the cleanest way to finish this up and ultimately would cause the least strain to an already overworked HR department. Biar is dismissed and Kray leaves the capture on mute. He doesn't need to listen to some doomed nobody grunting as they empty more come into Galo's stuffed ass.

Pleasuring Galo had been boring enough, but there's nothing interesting about watching someone play with a toy that doesn't even know it's being played with. Kray moves through the footage further, pausing momentarily when Galo reawakens, alone and sticky. Kray signs a few documents while he considers that development. It's no fun to watch Galo be used when he's not awake, but the moments afterward are particularly sweet. Watching him rouse alone and defiled, and weakly try to scrape himself together, to wrap his arms around himself in a pathetic attempt to self-soothe.

  


  


* * *

  


  


A few tweaks had been made to the standing order regarding the guards and Galo. No more single occupants in the cell. At least two guards must be present at all times. Kray's not sure if his staff is just shy or perhaps harboring some kind of sexual camaraderie. But he won't have any more of it. Besides, he's seen Galo with one man, and then two at once. How many more could Galo satisfy? How many could his weak body sustain before he came apart from it?

Besides, an ensemble cast is always more entertaining. And while Kray is a politician and a business savant, no one would doubt he doesn't also have a flair for the dramatic.

Understandably the next bit of video has some hiccups to work out. The guards have a little too much fun with the violence at first. After all, brute force is what he pays them for, and the official story had been awful, ungrateful Galo had attempted to kill their kind leader. So Kray can't complain too much that the guards might play with their food a little. Rough Galo up at the edges. He looks so down and desperate, he's practically begging for a fist to the jaw as much as he wants a cock to the mouth.

Galo shouts and struggles between blows — that's good, he's learning from that little incident with the choking. At least with his peabrain and limited understanding of the world, Galo is still capable of some shred of learning. Which is all the better because as Galo adapts, Kray can find new ways to break him down. So the more he struggles, the more a dozen hands claw at him, pinning him to the floor.

Another day, another pack of men. In the grand scheme of things Galo truly can't complain. Sure he has more bruises than other encounters, but this next group stands around him with their cocks out, stripping the skin bare as they work themselves over. Galo leans on one elbow, breathing in ragged gasps as he's surrounded by bulging dicks, throbbing with need as they stare hungrily at his exposed self. Thick hand-sized bruises adorn Galo's thighs, and his naked body seems almost covered in a thick layer of filth, hair matted strangely in spots. Come splatters across his back and Galo's eyes close, head bowed. 

Maybe it's worse not to be touched, but… Kray moves further through the footage. Surely there's more interesting footage than punching rounds and circle jerks.

A new pack of guards huddle around Galo who's hoisted up on his knees, wobbly planted in the center of the group. As usual, cocks are out and pointed threatening towards him in all directions. Galo must have gotten the hang of it now, what's expected of him. His hands are wrapped around a cock each, palms working them to hardness, come streaming down his wrists. He's looking a little skinny. Maybe he's not being fed enough. Although he's certainly getting enough protein to sustain him, Kray thinks with a disarmingly low thrum of vindictiveness, watching as Galo dutifully opens his mouth for another cock. His jaw must be sore from all the lengths it's taken, all the sour-smelling rods he's had to massage with that insolent tongue of his. How sweet that Galo's adjusted to this new life of his. Maybe there will be a place for him in the new world, a delicious treat for some low-class release in the basements. Something Kray surely wouldn't sully his hands with, but maybe just to tune into once and awhile.

Kray fast-forwards through the bulk of it — he's seen Galo suck cock, his own and others. There's nothing artful about it. The guards are nothing impressive and watching Galo's Adam's apple bob pleadingly as he swallows wad after wad… It's not a good use of Kray's time. Busy man and all that, you know the drill.

Some of these guards know the best way to torment Galo is not to touch him at all. Obviously he is a cock hungry whore desperate to be filled; Kray could've told them that from the beginning. He could write a whole thesis about how desperate Galo was for a fuck from the very beginning, so hungry for approval now he'd take it from anyone, in any hole. Abusing him without touching him: that's all Galo deserves, after all.

Still, there's something so gratifying about the glimpses Kray can catch of Galo's cock spasming as it comes. Kray gets only brief glances of it between the guards who jockey for prime real estate in front of their delicious toy. But occasionally one of the hulky imbeciles will move in the right away and Kray can feast his eyes on the sight: Galo's cock, splattering the floor with his come. His lips puffy and abused, barely healed bruises over his jaw. And ever still, Galo's dick standing hard at attention, coming with the pathetic senselessness of a dog in heat. While a cadre of dicks surround him, in his mouth, in his hands. Others poking into the side of his cheeks, rubbing off into his hair, on that bulging chest of his.

Because it happened: after a feast of suitors, a bevvy of men come to work Galo over, the dumb boy is starting to enjoy it. Kray broke him to this sort of treatment and now Galo's happy to have it from anyone.

Kray leans his chin into his palm and exhales, slow and content. It's always so satisfying to see a plan come together.

  


  


* * *

  


  


Kray casually peruses the latest footage starring a pack of four men that have Galo pinned to the floor. Two men are right in Galo's reach, but instead of pushing them away, Galo's palms wrap accommodatingly around their cocks. Come drools down his wrists and forearms as he jerks them off. He's already been trained so nicely, to take what's offered to him and do what his body does best. Surely the bruises upon bruises have taught him enough. 

The other two guards kneel between his legs, poking and prodding at Galo's private parts- not that there's much private to him anymore. Two fingers plunge into his gaping asshole; Galo hardly flinches. It must be second nature now, having his ass teased and toyed with. The further they pry him open, the more his gaping ass leaks out thick droplets of come. The spent seed oozes out his ass in long, dribbling rivulets, sliding to the floor.

Galo whimpers, weakly trying to angle his lower half away from those prying hands. "Stop," he mutters, shamefaced. "Don't look…" 

The guards' leering gaze stays focused on their disgusting feast, of Galo's stuffed too-full ass opened wide. Good, let his cow stomach empty out with all the come that's inflated him. Better the guards scrape and claw at his insides, working Galo clean, while he shivers and moans, miserable from their terrible attention. A cock in his hand twitches as its owner reaches completion, splattering more come across the side of Galo's face. He hardly even flinches. Amazing Galo still can be shy about some things with all this other debauchery happening around him.

Forced open and wide, the guards below his waist seem to have a simultaneous idea, an awful plan hatched silently between them. What could've been an argument about who fucks the boy first ends in a compromise, in two cocks greedily inching towards his entrance. 

Outstanding. This is exactly the kind of teamwork and initiative Kray likes to see from his employees. He ought to take note of their badge numbers, give them an end of the world bonus for their ingenuity. Thinking on their feet in a non-traditional aspect of the job.

"Wait," Galo gasps. He stops jerking the other men off, starts panicking. "No — That's too much-"

Oh, please. Galo's handled countless cocks by now, how hard could it be to take two at once? Kray watches eagerly as both cocks penetrate Galo achingly slow, sinking into the boy alongside one another. The tight skin of his hole widens with their plunge inwards, Galo's thighs trembling wildly as he's pushed back with the force of their thrust. He's lucky, at least for now, that the guards are entering him with a coordinated harmony. Kray can only imagine how awful it would be if they fucked him with a little less care. He doesn't need to imagine it for long- surely everything Galo's done until now had loosened him up, but the width of two cocks side by side is enough to make even his ass tight again. 

Kray, of course, has no idea how desirable someone as pathetic as Galo could be, but it must feel quite good, given the way the guards begin to slip out of rhythm with one another. The two guards above Galo rearrange themselves to hold him still as he's entered with brutal inconsistency, one cock ravaging his insides while another pulls out, both of them tearing at his muscles, pushing him to his limits. Galo tosses his head back and shouts, pleading for mercy as big tears well in the corner of his eyes. He thrashes weakly under the onslaught, dragged against the floor with the force of their thrusts. His cock jumps between his legs, too scared to be hard, too hurt to want to come. But somehow that's even better, that there's still something that even a dog like Galo can't enjoy. 

"What a good little slut," Kray hears himself say, and the sound of his own voice snaps him awake. As if he'd been watching the footage in a dream, he's suddenly aware of himself, bent over his desk, palm kneading at his crotch through his slacks.

Kray ends the footage abruptly, cutting off Galo mid-scream. He holds himself on the edge of desire, in the echoing quiet space of his office. It's possible he's had a bit too much fun watching Galo be enjoyed by others. Kray stands, collects himself. 

Enough fun. It's about time for him to pay another visit and give the boy his final punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! love to you all who are still reading. Hopefuly i'll have a finale for you all soon /prayer hands emoji
> 
> follow me on twitter @mobchuu!


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